


His Last Vow

by Marauderess5



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Did I Mention Angst?, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Missing Scene, Obi-Wan Needs a Hug, So much angst, and a therapist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:35:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marauderess5/pseuds/Marauderess5
Summary: "Qui-Gon dies. Obi-Wan cradles his Master, quietly weeping."Or: The missing scene that takes place immediately after Qui-Gon's death, as Obi-Wan begins to mourn.





	His Last Vow

**Author's Note:**

> This is just my humble attempt to give voice to some of Obi-Wan Kenobi's endless angst.
> 
> I threw Padmé in here because she deserves to be in everything. Also because I feel like she and Obi-Wan should have been good friends. 
> 
> Also: Yes, the title alludes to an equally angsty episode of _Sherlock_.
> 
> It's my first fic in quite some time, so constructive criticism is welcome!

_OBI-WAN : Master! Master!_  
_QUI-GON : It is too late...It's..._  
_OBI-WAN : No!_  
_QUI-GON : Obi-Wan promise...promise me you'll train the boy..._  
_OBI-WAN : Yes, Master..._  
_QUI-GON : He is the chosen one...he will...bring balance...train him!_  
_  
_ QUI-GON dies. OBI-WAN cradles his Master, quietly weeping.

* * *

_There is no emotion, there is peace…_

Time crept on and numbness set in. Obi-Wan’s knees were beginning to ache, but it was nothing compared to the raging emptiness in his heart. He brushed a hand to his master’s face, jolted again by the awareness of how still Qui-Gon lay. Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to rise, clinging to the absurd idea that if he didn’t move from this position, from this cursed generator complex, from this terrifying, tantalizing moment, the galaxy would somehow right itself. Time would turn backwards, Obi-Wan would run more quickly through the corridor of laser shields, and he’d be right by his master’s side when the Sith –

_There is no death, there is the Force…_

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, but the blankness offered no respite. Eyes open, he saw his master’s unmoving body. Eyes closed, he saw red: the haunting translucence of the final laser shield between him and Qui-Gon, the dual lightsaber of the Sith, the unnameable rage. The darkness that had given him the strength to propel himself upwards and reached a crescendo as he sliced the Sith in half resumed its ebb and flow, whispering to him.

 _You were not strong enough, not fast enough_ , it hissed. _That is why he was so ready to cast you aside for another…_

Obi-Wan’s grip on Qui-Gon’s tunic tightened. _No_ , a smaller voice protested, _He chose to take you on as an apprentice when no one else would. Ask him, he’ll tell you that –_

– What? What more would Qui-Gon say? With his dying breath, he spoke of a boy he had just met, a child more attuned to the Force than Obi-Wan was even after two decades of dedication to the Jedi Order. No wonder his master had been so eager to train young Skywalker: he’d be much less challenging than Obi-Wan had been. Anakin would effortlessly rise to great heights. The prophesied “Chosen One” certainly has a much better chance of success than the boy who nearly ended up in the AgriCorps.

Obi-Wan brought a hand up to his salt-encrusted face as a nauseating chill passed through him. _And yet, I’m terrified by the task of training him_. _How could you give me this burden, Master?_

In the preternatural stillness that followed this thought, Obi-Wan became aware of another presence in the room, a pinprick of warmth brushing up against the sterile nothingness. Still too gutted to feel anything related to surprise, he glanced up in mild curiosity.

Padmé – _Queen Amidala_ – stood in the doorway, blaster half-raised, expression unreadable. But Obi-Wan, of course, could read her easily through the Force. Emotions rolled off of her in waves – triumph ( _so the battle has been won_ , Obi-Wan thought dimly) and relief ( _the Queen risked everything, no doubt_ ), but also shock, dismay, and ( _was that…?_ ) pity.

In the time it took him to assume a semblance of composure, the queen strode purposefully to where he sat and kneeled down on the other side of Qui-Gon. In her mauve, velvety suit, she looked and carried herself a bit like a Jedi – if an overtly regal one. Obi-Wan entertained a brief, absurd thought about leaving Anakin with her and absolving himself of all responsibility. _But I promised…_

How many times had Obi-Wan disobeyed Qui-Gon in life, that he was now considering disobeying him in death?

“Padawan Kenobi,” the queen said, as Obi-Wan was brought back to the present with a startled jolt. “On behalf of myself and my people, I want to offer my deepest condolences.” Her brown eyes exuded kindness.

Obi-Wan’s chest tightened. “No,” he replied quietly, as though talking to himself. His voice sounded strange to his own ears. “I’m no one’s padawan. Not anymore.” The queen didn’t respond, and Obi-Wan was suddenly ashamed by his blatant disregard for pleasantries. He looked up in alarm. “Your Highness, I – I’m sorry, I…”

“Please,” she reached over, forestalling his stuttered apology. “Call me Padmé.”

Obi-Wan nodded politely, not trusting himself to speak again.

The queen – _Padmé_ – cleared her throat. “I confess I don’t know much about Jedi funeral practices,” she said, “but I will do everything in my power to ensure that Qui-Gon is properly taken care of.”

 _Funeral practices_. Jedi are cremated, their bodies consumed by the fire that sparked the origin of all life in the universe. The Jedi’s corporeal form is transformed by the flames, dissipates into the infinite splendor of the cosmos, and ultimately, becomes one with the Force.

Obi-Wan remembered the funeral of Jedi Master Tahl, Qui-Gon’s closest friend and a maternal figure to Obi-Wan. The Healers had treated the body so that it wouldn’t let off a scent while it burned, but the sight still shook Obi-Wan. His master, sensing his turmoil, put a calming – yet subtly trembling – hand on his shoulder. Qui-Gon’s voice, always a quiet rumble, infused him with both emotion and peace. “We are all made of stardust, my padawan. We are one with the Force before and after death.” Obi-Wan had wiped his eyes, and swore he could feel Tahl smiling down at them both.

But Obi-Wan said none of that.

He said, “Thank you… Padmé. I’ll need to contact the Jedi Council immediately and…” Obi-Wan focused on a spot above Padmé’s left shoulder and took two deep breaths. _Qui-Gon was always tardy with his reports_ , he thought, and inexplicably let out a noise between a chuckle and a sob.

All at once, Obi-Wan was drowning, tumbling deeper and deeper until he couldn’t breath. Earlier, Qui-Gon had been betting on pod-races, wagering for sentient lives and galactic stakes. Later, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon would spar, working on quickening Obi-Wan’s Ataru reflexes. Then they would retire to their shared quarters, and Obi-Wan would fall asleep to the comforting sound of Qui-Gon’s light snores. Qui-Gon would rise early and go for a walk among the Temple gardens, absorbing the vibrancy of the Living Force, and Obi-Wan would rise and meditate.They would embark on another diplomatic mission. Adopt yet another pathetic lifeform along the way. They would squabble. Obi-Wan would pout and snark and then obey. Theirs was a relationship built on respect… and something a little more complicated.

Obi-Wan realized, with a pang that would tear apart a star system, that he would never again see the mischievous twinkle that lit up Qui-Gon’s eyes.

Obi-Wan had always been more attuned to the Unifying Force, seeking insight from the future as well as from the past. But his master adhered to the teachings of the Living Force, grounding himself firmly in the present, consequences be damned. _And in a lightsaber battle_ , Obi-Wan realized, throat suddenly dry, _Qui-Gon’s aggressive Ataru form leaves him vulnerable to sneak attacks like the one the Sith…_

No. He mustn’t dwell.

Obi-Wan had always been more attuned to the Unifying Force, but now, sitting alongside his master’s dead body with the weight of his last vow on his shoulders, the future seemed as barren and bleak as a Tatooine sandstorm.

He had finally learned to keep his emotions tightly coiled, but now they were threatening to spill out.

Fear for the future, a future without Qui-Gon Jinn.

Anger at the Force for claiming his master so young.

Hatred for the murderous Sith, the instrument of evil that gutted Qui-Gon like a fish. ( _There is always a bigger fish_ , Qui-Gon mused in Obi-Wan’s now precious memories.)

And the inescapable suffering that he knew, through a prescience he couldn’t explain, was yet to come.

Obi-Wan sat back on his heels and raised his face upwards in an attempt to staunch the threatening flow of tears. “I’m not ready,” he whispered, as Padmé watched, silent and understanding. Not ready for Knighthood, not ready for the responsibility of a padawan, not ready to let go of his master’s rock-solid presence in his life. His heart beat woodenly in his chest, a thundering, taunting reminder of the barrier between his position among the living and Qui-Gon’s position among the dead.

Every being is one with the Force, but at the moment, the Force was callously keeping a master and his padawan apart.

No; Obi-Wan was not ready for a life that did not include Qui-Gon Jinn.

Padmé smiled gently. “We never are.”

An echo of activity reverberated through the generator complex, but Padmé’s only movement was to place her hand over Obi-Wan’s, his fingers still intertwined in Qui-Gon’s robe. Obi-Wan didn’t pull away.

He was setting a bad example. This was wrong. Qui-Gon had passed on to the Force, there was no use of feeling any grief. So _why_ –

“He was like a father to you, wasn’t he?” Padmé said, and for a moment, Obi-Wan forgot to breath.

His instinct was to deny it, to remind her that he never knew his parents, that the Jedi Order is all he’s ever known, that Qui-Gon took him on as an apprentice only after an extensive trial; that the two of them butted heads more often than not, but that Obi-Wan woke up every day reveling in the fact that he was lucky enough to be apprenticed to one of the kindest, most honest, most independent-minded Jedi Masters the Order had ever produced.

“Yes,” he said, smiling over the lump in his throat. “I suppose he was.”

She caught Obi-Wan’s eye and the Force hummed with a glimmer of pure _good_ ness. Her mouth quirked upwards in a smile, and she removed her hand from Obi-Wan’s, appearing suddenly self-conscious.

Obi-Wan felt the beginning of a smile tug at his own lips, stretching his cracked skin. “You are wise for someone so young,” he said, taking advantage of her distraction to swipe a hand across his eyes. Padmé’s fierce generosity of spirit was like a beacon of light within the Force, poking and prodding at the heavy darkness threatening his soul. Obi-Wan leaned into her influence as air-light tendrils of the Force began to wrap around – but not quite fill – the emptiness of Qui-Gon’s absence.   

Padmé punched in some numbers on her comlink, no doubt summoning her guards to their location. Obi-Wan clung more tightly to his master’s tunic.

With the air of a career diplomat, Padmé asked casually, “Where is the Zabrak assassin?”

Obi-Wan’s veins ran cold as a swell of nausea overtook him. “I…” _Vivisected him. Cut him down and avenged my master. Killed him in anger and grief._ “...defeated him.” A hiss of darkness, sludgy and _alive_ , washed over him as he glanced towards the ventilator shaft. “He fell down there.”

Padmé looked over her shoulder. “Then I suppose I should thank you once again for saving my life,” she said. “And the lives of many others as well. I have no doubt he would have continued murdering his way across the galaxy if you hadn’t stood in his way.”

 _If_ Qui-Gon _hadn’t stood in his way, you mean_. Obi-Wan’s eyes and heart burned in sync, but he clamped down on his emotions more efficiently this time.

“I suppose that’s true, Your Highness.” _From a certain point of view_.

Perhaps Padmé will sell herself that half-truth one day, if she ever kills in anger. But revenge is not the Jedi way. Obi-Wan Kenobi, aspiring Jedi Knight, Padawan to Master Qui-Gon Jinn, knows better than that. He is _stronger_ than that. He will not let the darkness control him – even if, right now, it threatens to consume him.

A group of guards trotted in to check on the queen and transport Qui-Gon’s body. Obi-Wan wrenched his attention back to the present when he realized the queen was addressing him. “...a secure comm channel set up in the throne room for you to access. You should be able to contact the Jedi Council from there.”

He nodded, sliding his hand from Qui-Gon’s still-warm body and reflexively reaching for his padawan braid. Heart in his throat, tearing his gaze away from his prone master, he stood up. And began to walk. The laser shields had finally been deactivated, but just the site of the platform made Obi-Wan catch his breath.

“Obi-Wan?”

He turned around.

“It’s okay to miss him,” Padmé said quietly.

Obi-Wan’s head dipped slightly, trembling hands hidden under his stained tunic.

She took another step forward and placed a steadying hand on his arm. “It’s okay to be angry at him, too.”

 _Yes_ , his heart rumbled, _How quickly Qui-Gon cast me aside for another! Did he care for me at all?_

His soul responded: _It matters not. Anger is the path to the Dark Side…_

No. He would never embrace the Dark Side. He would fight the darkness inside himself every day of his life. He knew that this suffering was insurmountable, but that it was also only the beginning. He would not let his new charge see him as anything other than a model Jedi.

Carefully, Obi-Wan removed Padmé’s hand from his arm and clasped it in two of his own. His hands were steady as he bowed respectfully. “I won’t fail him,” he said simply.

Obi-Wan turned away before she could see the truth in his eyes.


End file.
